Never Look Back
by Jaycie
Summary: I wrote this a while ago, so some of the stuff that happened on the show hadn't happened when I wrote this, but you'll be able to follow it. It's in the future and the gang is separated, but reunited by an invitation to a high school reunion
1. Never Look Back, An Introduction

Disclaimer: I don't own the Capeside crew, or People magazine. But, any characters you do not recognize from the show are my creations. Right from my own head.  
  
Author's note: It's fifteen years since the gang's graduation, and for all who are not math whizzes (welcome to the club), it's 2016.. meaning they're 33. As the title suggests, this is just an introduction. More in-depth story lines will develop later (I promise!).**  
  
Never Look Back: An Introduction  
By: Diana**  
  
Dawson looked out the window, taking in the breathtaking view as if it were his first time beholding it, and not his fiftieth. The deep green pine trees that surrounded the house were sugar coated with freshly fallen snow, the river that ran adjacent to the log cabin was just about frozen over. Dawson smiled. Jolie would love ice skating.  
  
Seven year old Jolie, with eyes as blue as sapphire, hair as blond and feathery as his own, and the intelligence and wit of a fifteen year old, would love anything her father suggested. She was daddy's little girl. Of course, that had been what had driven Nicole away, Dawson knew. Nicole had been jealous of their relationship, of their unbreakable bond. Jolie shared Dawson's passion, his will, even his hotheadedness which sometimes left him feeling as if he had met his match.   
  
The day Nicole left was etched into Dawson's brain. The love of his life had simply flicked her long jet-black locks over her shoulder, turned her flashing brown eyes on Dawson and said, "I just need to find someone who realizes I exist," and walked calmly from the house, throwing her suitcases into her beamer, sliding into the driver seat and squealing away from the house, sending gravel flying in all directions.  
  
Dawson realized, a few weeks after she left, that she had managed to accumulate a large sum of his money as her own before she left. Strangely, he was glad to know she would be taken care of.  
  
"G'morning, Dad," Jolie stumbled into the family room, her hair in tangles and her eyes glazed over with sleep. She wrapped her robe tighter around her as she crawled into her father's lap.  
  
"Morning, Jol." Dawson planted a kiss on top of her head, "Have a good sleep?"  
  
Jolie nodded, "Mm hm. Darn daylight woke me up." She stretched her tiny arms above her head and yawned. "Hey, what's that?" She asked, pointing to a starched white envelope with the name 'Mr. Dawson Leery' printed in calligraphy on the front.   
  
Dawson frowned, he had completely forgotten about that. He picked up the envelope and slid the contents out. It was a small sheet of white paper, with the Capeside High School minuteman emblem etched in the corner. 'You are cordially invited to attend Capeside High's Class of 2001 reunion party...' Dawson groaned inwardly. He had left Capeside with a vow to never look back. Besides, with how rocky everything was when he left.. it wasn't worth the stress.   
  
"Dad, planning on answering me?" Jolie was looking up at her father, worry marring her angelic features.  
  
Dawson sighed as he crumpled the invitation into a ball in his fist, avoiding eye contact with his daughter, "It's nothing important."  
  
**********************  
  
Josephine Potter picked up the bottle of vodka and poured the last remaining fourth straight down her throat, relishing the burning feeling that shot through to her stomach. Now she could think. She stood up from the couch and immediately grabbed the arm, nearly falling flat on her face.   
  
"Damn couch gettin' in the way all the time," she mumbled as she lurched unsteadily over to the kitchen. Upon entering she kneeled in front of one of the various cabinets and swung it open, struggling to decide which image to look at through her double vision. She rubbed her eyes, "Jus' need one more drink is all." She reached in and grabbed the first bottle her shaky fingers came in contact with. Tequila. She flashed a toothy grin, "Mus' be my lucky night."  
  
Josephine didn't drink this much every night, but tonight she had, in her eyes, a legitimate reason. Something very disturbing had arrived via the mail. An invitation to her high school reunion. Stuff like that brought up memories of bad things. Things she had carefully hid in the darkest recesses of her mind.   
  
She heard her apartment door creak open, "Hey, Josie! Where are you?" Josephine looked up blearily from the unopened bottle and smiled her toothy grin once more.  
  
"In here, Ricky! In the kitchen!" She jumped from the floor and ran from the room, making it to the door before her knees collapsed and she fell face first into the carpet. She smiled up at Ricky, who frowned down at her.  
  
"Josie," his voice was soft and pleading, "Look at this place," he gestured to the area around him, "you got dishes piled up ten miles high in your sink, your dirty clothes are everywhere, this place is completely rat-infested.." Ricky's voice faded out as he glanced down at her once more, "And that's the least of your problems."  
  
Josephine smiled up at him, "Why's there two of you, Rick? I didn't know you had a twin!" She cracked up at her joke, slapping her knee and rolling back and forth on the ground.   
  
Ricky ran a hand through his hair, "C'mon, Josie, get up. You're coming to my house tonight." He grabbed her underneath her arms and hauled her up, just about dragging her out the door.   
  
"Wait, Ricky! You gotta get my invitation! It's very important!" She pushed away from Ricky, attempting to run back to her apartment. He caught her arm before she fell.  
  
"Tomorrow, Josie. Tomorrow."  
  
******************  
  
"Pacey, come back to bed. You do have whole hour before work, correct?"  
  
Pacey Witter grinned devilishly at himself in the mirror, quickly running a toothbrush through his mouth. He walked from the adjoining bathroom into the master bedroom and stood leaning against the doorjamb, "You sure you're not too tired, Angelique?"  
  
Angelique smiled as she ran a manicured hand over her taught, tanned thigh, "Never too tired for Mr. Witter."   
  
Pacey felt a shudder of desire run through him. That French accent drove him wild. Angelique was.. well, just like all of the other women in Pacey's life: a one week fling. Pacey Witter was not a man of commitment. And even though People magazine named him one of America's fifty most eligible bachelors, Pacey still shied away from women who expected him to call the next day.  
  
"Come, Pacey. Angelique is getting cold."  
  
Pacey grinned, "We can't have that, can we?" He lept onto the bed, placing butterfly kisses down her neck.   
  
A swift knock on the door of the suite ended the embrace, "What could possibly be so important this early on a Thursday morning?" Pacey growled angrily.  
  
"Please excuse me, Mr. Witter, but I have brought you the mail, delivered express from the post office as you requested, and breakfast."  
  
Pacey jumped off the bed, all at once forgetting Angelique. He swung open the door and laughed when he beheld the spread of eggs, bacon, and piping hot biscuits before him on the two trays, the mail stacked neatly on the side of one of them. He leaned over and planted a kiss on the cheek of the maid, "Did I ever tell you how 'much' I appreciate you, Rose?"  
  
Rose, being well into her sixties and used to Pacey's antics, rolled her eyes as she placed the trays on fold-out tables beside the bed, "You'd better appreciate me, Mr. Witter, because without my service, nothing would get done around here."  
  
Pacey laughed again as he shooed Rose out of the room. When the door was shut, he turned back to the mail, "Now I get the dailies before anyone else, you see." Even as Pacey spoke, he knew it was lost on Angelique. She, as well as any other mistress he had, did not know, or care, about his corporation. And he preferred it that way.  
  
Pacey stopped rifling through the envelopes when he came across one in particular. He ripped it open to find another envelope, this one having 'Mr. Pacey Witter' written in calligraphy across the front. "What the.." he mumbled as he tore open the second envelope. He gasped in shock. A high school reunion? After everything that had happened? It was impossible to even think about. He laid the offensive paper on the tray, rolling his shoulders back in an attempt to calm himself.   
  
Angelique spoke, sounding slightly annoyed through her thick accent, "Can Pacey come to bed now?"  
  
Pacey felt himself relax. Why waste time thinking about the high school reunion? He could never return to Capeside. It was out of the question.  
  
He turned around and pulled Angelique into a kiss, pushing her back down on the bed. He would stay in Los Angeles and let Capeside fade into a distant memory.  
  
***********************  
  
Jack McPhee finished tying a knot in his shoelace and jumped up from the chair, jogging in place a few times. He stretched his arms over his head and bent down at the waist, doing a couple preliminary stretches.   
  
After Jack finished, he headed out the door, breathing in the crisp Maine air. He was glad they decided to move here after the wedding. It was so breathtakingly beautiful. Jen and he were so happy here, it was such an improvement from what they had left behind..   
  
He walked to the edge of his long dirt driveway and opened the mailbox, extracting the contents. He skimmed the addresses and was about to place them back in the mailbox, remembering he had to pick them up after his morning jog, but one envelope caught his eye. It was addressed to both he and Jen, the return address being Capeside High School.   
  
Jack bit his bottom lip as he ripped open the first and then the second envelope. It was, as he feared, an invitation to a high school reunion. After reading, he was immediately torn. Does he tell Jen and make her upset? Or does he throw it in the garbage and pretend it had never passed through his hands?   
  
Jack sighed as he shoved the invitation in with the rest of the mail. He'd decide after his jog.  
  
**************************  
  
Jennifer Lindley, or McPhee as she found herself still getting used to, propped her feet up onto the leg rest and nestled back into the cushions of her arm chair. She rested her arms over her bulging stomach, imagining, as she often did lately, what the baby would look like.   
  
She felt a tiny smile cross her lips as she thought of the nursery she and Jack were decorating together. It was mint green and pale yellow, an attempt to make the room unisex. The walls were covered with green and yellow teddy bears, cloth balloons hung over the tiny crib. But Jen's favorite item was the wooden rocking horse that had belonged to her as a young child. She smiled in pure glee, everything in Maine was just ... perfect.  
  
It was amazing, how different everything was here, compared to the hell they had left in Capeside. Jen remembered, tears brushing her eyelashes, how much pain everyone, Jack and Pacey especially, had gone through. The image of Andie's smiling face wouldn't disappear and often invaded hers and Jack's dreams.   
  
Jen shuddered and shook her head, trying to stop the rush of memories that flooded her mind. They were done with Capeside, with everything it stood for. They would never return. Never.  
  
  
Done for now ... did you like it? Wanna know what's next? Tell me! MyStory12@aol.com  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Overlooked Obstacles

Author's Note: Sorry, my old pen name was Diana and I forgot to change it=) **Overlooked Obstacles  
By: Jaycie  
**  
"Stop being such a downer!"  
  
Pacey grimaced at Andie, attempting to hold the face, but failing. A wide, bright smile spread across his lips, "Maybe I like being a party pooper."  
  
Andie groaned and turned away from Pacey, crossing her arms defiantly over her chest, "Can't you just do this one thing? It's all I'll ask of you ever again," she smiled at him, "I promise."  
  
Pacey was suddenly aware that the sky was becoming darker, darker until it was almost black. He looked down at Andie, nervousness flashing in his eyes, "What's going on?"  
  
Andie's carefree disposition had changed into one of regret and sadness, her eyes downcast with disappointment, "It's too late, Pacey."  
  
Pacey felt icy fingers grip his throat. Too late for what? He reached out for Andie, but she was just out of his reach. He took a step forward but she remained a fraction of an inch away from his frantic grasp. His blood rushed with nervous adrenaline, "Stop," he yelled as she continued to fade into the blackness, "Come back!"  
  
But she had disappeared.  
  
Pacey shot up in his bed, the cries slowly dying on his lips. This dream had been haunting him since.. it happened. As usual, his body was drenched with sweat, as were the sheets he laid upon. He pushed himself up, dragging his wet body from the warmth of the bed. A glance at the clock told him it was 2:30, meaning he'd be up the entire night.   
  
He put his hands over his face, shaking his head back and forth, "I should've done it," he murmured, "I should've gone with her." Images of Andie, of her bright eyes, her flaxen hair, her soft kisses brought a strangled cry from Pacey's lips and he fell to his knees on the floor, sobs wracking his body. It was fifteen years since, but the wound was still so fresh.   
  
He pushed his body against the wall and hung his head between his knees. A stab of loneliness ripped through his heart. Pacey had no one. And all of a sudden he missed them. He missed them all. Dawson's obliviousness and Joey's wit and Jen's worldliness, though he thought he must be caught up to her by now, and Jack's friendliness and most of all Andie's... everything. A fresh wave of tears coursed down Pacey's cheeks, because there wasn't really anything he could do about Andie.  
  
He rested his head against the cold wall, looking around his large, extravagant bedroom that remained empty, if not physically, then emotionally, and realizing he had accomplished his goal, and that it had brought him nothing but emptiness.   
  
His eyes rested on his night table, on a single item that seemed to be surrounded by a circle of light.   
  
It was a starched white envelope.  
  
************************  
  
Dawson smiled at Jolie through the rearview mirror of his 2015 Jaguar. Jolie, oblivious to her father's fond stare, continued babbling, "So Katie said that Josh looked at me in lunch and I was like yeah right! Because, Dad, Josh is such a loser."  
  
Dawson laughed, "I happen to think any boy that looks in my daughter's direction is far from being a loser."  
  
Jolie rolled her eyes, but Dawson noticed a pleased smile tug at the corners of her mouth, "Ha ha, Dad. You're so funny."  
  
Dawson nodded his head, "So I'm told."  
  
Jolie tugged on her seat-belt and looked at her father with an expression that Dawson knew well. The one that allowed her to cajole him into almost anything. "Tell me about Joey again, Dad."  
  
Dawson sighed impatiently, "How many times can you listen to that story?" Dawson had created a fairytale-ized version of his and Joey's relationship, not realizing at the time that it would become Jolie's favorite.  
  
The truth was, Dawson's feelings for Joey had ended on the day of graduation. The day he had walked in on her with .. that creep. Dawson had realized, as he beheld the two entangled in each other, that the sight neither angered nor saddened him. It only brought his lack of feeling toward Joey to his attention.   
  
Dawson shot Jolie a no nonsense look and concentrated his attention back on the massive traffic jam they were stuck in.   
  
Luckily, she took the hint. But instead of relenting, she shifted topics, "Hey, Daddy," Dawson cringed as Jolie's wheedling tone grinded into his ear, "Remember that mail I asked you about?"  
  
Dawson knitted his eyebrows together, for he had forgotten about the invitation.  
  
Jolie groaned, "Dad! I know you remember. Well, anyway, you said it was nothing important, but you were distracted, so I knew you were lying."  
  
Dawson smiled slightly.  
  
Jolie continued rambling, "So I fished it out of the garbage and read it. I mean, I sort of read it, because I'm not the best reader in the world." She licked her lips and leaned forward, "But if I know what I'm talking about, it was asking you to go back to Capeside."  
  
Dawson nodded his head back slowly as he remembered the preposterous invitation, "Forget it, Miss Jolie. Get that idea out of your head right now."  
  
Jolie's eyes began to shine with unshed tears, and Dawson marveled at her ability to turn her eyes off and on. "But, Dad! Capeside! I could meet Joey," her voice was filled with wonderment. "I want to see the place where the ladder was and I want to see the Icehouse, and the ruins and the creek and so much more!"  
  
Dawson shook his head, "It isn't as great as it sounds. Just a regular town with regular places." Dawson paused and the next time he spoke it was more to himself than to his daughter, "Who even knows if it looks the same anymore.."  
  
Jolie, being extremely cunning and sly, realized her opportunity and pounced on it, "This is your chance to find out, Dad! Don't you want to see Pacey and Jen and everyone again?"  
  
Without realizing it, Jolie had made a fatal mistake. Dawson's back stiffened and his tone left no room for questioning, "No, Jol. I don't want to see anyone. We're not going. That's it."  
  
Jolie slumped back in her seat and stared out the window grudgingly. But inside, the gears were turning. They would be going to Capeside, of that she was sure.  
  
*********************  
  
Jen pushed herself awkwardly from the armchair, using her arms to support her weight. "I want to go, Jack!" Jen realized she was yelling at him, and for a reason she could not figure out. Of course it would be logical to think she wouldn't want to go back. Nobody would under the circumstances. But something, whether it be an irrational mood swing, or her true feeling, was telling her it was time to face the music.  
  
Jack placed his hands on her shoulders in an attempt to placate, "I think we should talk about this, Jen. Going back would entail such a humongous amount of courage, and I'm not sure we contain it."  
  
Jen pushed his hands off, "Oh, shut up. It won't take courage. Just a phone call and a plane ticket. That's it."  
  
Jack sat down in the armchair Jen had just evacuated and rubbed his eyes, "Have you forgotten about the baby? What if little McPhee decides to pop out early, Jen? What then?" Jack hadn't wanted to match Jen's anger, but he heard his voice rise and felt the veins in his neck begin to bulge.  
  
Jen laughed, "So then he or she will be born in the perfectly placid town of Capeside, Massachusetts. Is there any better place?"  
  
Jack knew that the excuses he was feeding to Jen were not the ones that had been eating at him the entire day. And suddenly he found he couldn't care about her fragile condition. She needed to hear the truth. His voice was low and unemotional as he began, "Maybe it isn't any of those reasons then, Jen. Maybe it's because I can't face them-" his voice cracked, and he bowed his head down, "Have you forgotten about Andie? I can't go back.." Jack's voice was hardly audible and he looked back up at Jen, his eyes bloodshot and wide, "I can never go back."  
  
Jen sighed and ran a hand through her hair. She bent over Jack and kissed the top of his head, "I'm so sorry. I.. I can't believe I was that insensitive." She cupped his chin in her hand and raised his head until his eyes met hers, "I just thought maybe it'd be a good idea, you know, to see how things are now."  
  
Jack smiled feebly at her as she continued, "It might make you feel better, seeing all of them."  
  
Jack shook his head, "Everywhere I go I'll see Andie's face. Everything I do will remind me of her." He grasped Jen's hands in his, "It's bad enough here, Jen. But back in Capeside.. It would be impossible."  
  
Jen nodded slowly, "Can you just promise me to think about it a little more?"  
  
Jack pouted, "All right. But I'm just going to come to the same conclusion." And as he placed a soft kiss on Jen's upturned lips, he was already thinking of more excuses to give her. Because Capeside was part of a past that he wanted to stay exactly where it was. In the past.  
  
********************  
  
"You ever think it might be good to see your friends again, Josie?"  
  
Josephine wrapped the dark blue afghan tighter around her shoulders, "No, trust me, Rick. It wouldn't."  
  
Ricky rested his ankle on his knee and handed her a mug of steaming coffee. She sipped it carefully, still fighting the vicious hangover that had come of last night. Ricky chuckled, "What happened there that you're so tight-lipped about? It can't be that bad."  
  
Josephine was struck with several mental images that left her speechless. After a lengthy pause she whispered, "Yes it can. It definitely can."  
  
Ricky edged closer to her and put his arm around her, she immediately placing her head on his shoulder, "I do miss them, though," she bit her lip to fight tears, "Even Dawson."  
  
Ricky chuckled at this, because he had had to sit through her detailed, and somewhat distorted, version of Dawson Leery, "Well then that settles it. You're going back."  
  
A single forlorn tear escaped Josephine's eye and traveled slowly down her cheek, "I wish it were that easy. It's just.. It's more complicated."  
  
Ricky rolled his eyes and lightly tugged on her hair, "Don't give me that complicated bull. Besides, I've got a proposition for you."  
  
Joey glanced up at him, silently pleading with him to make her go. She knew she needed to see them, at the same time she knew she wouldn't go unless someone forced her. Ricky grinned, "I'm coming. I'll be right at your side the whole time, so if it is as 'terrible' as you make it sound, we'll come right back home and pretend you never went." Ricky raised his eyebrows a few times, "Whaddaya think, huh? Good plan or what?"  
  
Josephine sat up and sipped from the mug again. This amazing plan of Ricky's would mean some tough decision making on her part. Him coming could mean the end of their friendship. But it could also mean she'd have a shoulder to cry on when everything exploded, which she knew it would. She sighed as the faces of her former friends flashed through her mind. God, but she did miss them.  
  
She turned to Ricky as a small smile formed on her lips, "You're on, Ricky." He grinned cockily and raised his eyebrows as if to say 'I told you so.'  
  
Joey sighed, trying to calm the pang of indecision, "You'd just better be right about this."  
  
***********************  
  
Pacey had called the minute the alumni office had opened. The lady had said he was one of the first to reply. He had asked her if any of them were coming, but she had said she wasn't able to give out that information. Pacey found that ridiculous. He'd be seeing them at the reunion anyway.  
  
Yes, he would be at the reunion of the Class of 2001. And now he was giddy with nervous anticipation. He couldn't believe he had almost given up the chance to reunite with them. Of course it would be difficult at first, but.. didn't friendship surpass that?  
  
Pacey hoped it would, but found he didn't really care. It was time to face it. To face all of it and get past the guilt that had been gnawing away at him for the past fifteen years. Now was the time. He was sure.  
  
****************  
  
Dawson sat in disbelief. Jolie had truly out done herself this time. Because here he was, on the phone, arranging for plane tickets that would bring him to the place he least wanted to be. Capeside, Massachusetts.   
  
She had used the mother line on him and Dawson cringed now as he realized he had fallen for it, hook, line and sinker.   
  
When he had found her, hidden beneath her covers, tears streaming down her cheeks, Dawson had thought she was hurt. Instead, she looked up at him with her huge liquid eyes, her voice quavering, "I miss Mommy."  
  
Now Dawson smacked his palm against his forehead, Jolie only used Nicole as an excuse when she wanted something. Unfortunately, the knowledge of this seemed to slip from his fingers everytime she uttered the sentence.  
  
"Maybe if we go to Capeside and I see how you grew up it would make it easier for me, Daddy. Does that make sense?" Dawson thought back to her words, cringing as he began to grasp just how much of an idiot he had been.  
  
As Dawson waited impatiently for the reservations agent to take him off hold, he tried to see the brighter side of things. Nothing came to mind. He snapped to attention as the nasal voice of the attendant began talking again. "I need two tickets to Massachusetts.... yes.. Uh, one week from today."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. Coming Home

**Coming Home  
By: Diana  
  
**The airport was cold after Josephine exited the terminal, forcing her to clench her teeth to keep them from chattering. Beside her, Ricky was having the same problem. "God, Josie," he forced through shivering lips, "Why didn't you warn me you lived on the North Pole?"  
  
Josephine wrapped her coat tighter around her shoulders and pushed past Ricky, glancing at the just-about-controlled chaos that was the airport around Christmas time. "Massachusetts would logically be colder than Jacksonville, Rick."  
  
Ricky nodded and hugged his arms around himself, a teasing glint in his eye "Why did I let you drag me along?"  
  
She dragged her eyes away from the crowd, knowing she had been scanning it for familiar faces, "Stop," she told him distractedly, "I can't even deal with joking around right now, okay?"  
  
Josephine felt the reassuring pressure of Ricky's hand on her shoulder and she placed her own over it, suddenly welcoming his comforting presence. "Thanks for forcing me, Rick," her voice was a whisper.  
  
His own tone betrayed the lightheartedness of the reply, "No problem, Jos."  
  
It was then that she spotted him. Even from behind the sight struck so close to her heart that her hand flew to her throat. He had hardly changed, except maybe he looked a bit older. As he grabbed the handle of his suitcase he turned. And his eyes met hers.  
  
Even with the distance between them, she could see the word 'Joey' form on his lips. That name brought tears to her eyes and a crooked smile to her lips. She hadn't been called Joey by anyone since she left, she hadn't let anyone call her that.  
  
The small handbag she had been allowed to carry on to the plane dropped to the ground as Josephine broke into a run. She heard Ricky's disconnected voice, "Where are you going, Josie?" But he sounded as if he already knew.  
  
He opened his arms to her as she came to him, a surprised smile breaking over his face. Joey half skipped her way, unable to stop the giddy laughter that sprung from her lips. In a moment she was in his arms, enveloped in his tight bear hug. "Oh, Pacey," she whispered softly into his shoulder, "I'm sorry."  
  
****************  
  
Dawson tried to shrug off the impatience that was slowly rooting itself in his mind. Jolie had not stopped pestering him about Joey since they had stepped off the plane. And now that they were en route to his childhood home, her curiosity had reached new, and even more intolerable, heights.  
  
"Show me the window where that ladder was first, Dad. I mean, that was where everything began, you know? God, if that hadn't been there you might never have kissed her in the first place." Jolie's sky-blue eyes sparkled up at him as she slipped her tiny hand into his, her fingers quickly disappearing in the largeness and thickness of his own hand.  
  
He felt his annoyance start to slip a little, but not enough to quell the biting remark that was already on the tip of his tongue, "Hey, Jolie, you know if 'wonderful' Joey and I were still together you wouldn't exist."  
  
Jolie's steps slowed to a stop and she angled her angelic face up to his, consternation wrinkling her nose, "What do you mean?"  
  
Dawson fought the urge to groan aloud. He had forgotten, which he found himself doing too much of the time, just how young Jolie was, and now he was stuck with an inquisitive little girl and an awkward conversation. He knelt grudgingly in front of her, looking down at the cement to avoid staring at her innocent expression. "What I meant was.." Dawson knew his cheeks were crimson, "All I was saying..." He stood when he had completely lost his nerve and looked straight forward, "Forget it. I didn't mean anything."   
  
And even as Jolie shrugged her shoulders and grabbed her father's hand once again, Dawson couldn't stop himself from mumbling, "Chicken."  
  
*********************  
  
As soon as the words had left her lips, Josephine regretted them. She hadn't meant to get into all of that, at least, not so soon. Pacey pulled slightly away from her, peering questioningly into her eyes. His had lost the playful shine. They seemed to be devoid of emotion, save for an immovable coldness that struck the seer straight into the soul. Josephine shivered.  
  
**********************  
  
Pacey could hardly believe the sight before him. Where had the stubborn independent Joey Potter gone? The woman that stood before him was hardly fatter than a piece of thread and she trembled in his arms as if she would never again be warm. The thick brown hair no longer made Pacey's fingers itch to run through it. The strands were stringy and shiny at the roots, revealing that she had not showered before her trip.  
  
Again, her words blazed through his mind, 'I'm sorry.' What was she apologizing for? Finally, he spoke, "It's good to see you, Jo," and he was not lying, either. Finding her in such a state as she was awakened feelings of tenderness and caring in Pacey he hadn't felt since Andie. He welcomed them with open arms.  
  
Joey's lower lip trembled as she visibly forced the words from her lips, "I, uh, I really needed this, I think. I mean, seeing you and knowing the fact that I'll be seeing everyone else soon."  
  
Pacey felt awkward. Joey was no longer the spunky, sly girl she used to be. Instead she was frail and vulnerable, a type of person Pacey rarely came across in his world of cutthroat business tycoons and he had no idea how to handle her.  
  
He swallowed, "Yeah. Me too," was his lame answer.  
  
Joey sensed his hesitation and moved away from his grasp, running a hand through her dirty hair and re-tucking her giant T-shirt into her baggy sweatpants.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, Pacey noticed a man slowly walking toward him. He was hispanic, short and stout, with friendly brown eyes and a contagious smile, which he flashed at Pacey as he neared.   
  
But, instead of addressing him, he turned to Joey, "Josie baby, you gonna introduce me to your friend?" Pacey watched as Joey grabbed the man's hand but said nothing. He also found it strange and unsettling to hear her being called Josie. It didn't fit her. At least, not the person he had known.  
  
The man turned and held a hand out to Pacey as his friendly grin spread across his lips, "I'm Ricky. You must be Dawson. Or no.. no you're Pacey."  
  
Pacey took Ricky's hand, "Got it in two tries, not too shabby." He grabbed the handle of his suitcase once more as he felt his old self start to awaken from its unshakable slumber, "Joey still can't find anything else to talk about but us Capeside men, huh? She's always been obsessed," he felt his old Cheshire cat grin reach his eyes and marveled at the occurrence.  
  
Ricky laughed good-naturedly, but Joey's smile hardly cracked her lips. She stood rooted to her spot, staring fixedly at her sandals. Ricky cleared his throat, obviously feeling responsible for Joey's unease. Luckily, he found an alternate topic, "I saw you in People. Pretty impressive."  
  
Pacey wrinkled his nose and waved Ricky away, "Don't believe anything you read. I'm just as slobby and pathetic as anyone else." Pacey said this, knowing full well if he were anywhere else he'd answer with an ungracious 'thank you' and a laconic excuse to leave. His sarcastic reply was rewarded with a laugh from Ricky and a genuine smile from Joey. He found that becoming the old Pacey was a role that was easier to slip into than he had ever thought.  
  
He hauled his suitcase over his shoulder and reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a crisp white card, holding it out to Joey, "Take this, Jo. It's got my cell number on it. Call me when you're settled." His voice lowered as he grabbed Joey's chin and forced her to look at him, "We need to talk."  
  
Joey nodded and looked down, but not before Pacey saw the tears begin to glint in her eyes. Pacey dropped his hand, disgusted. Joey was as helpless and fearful as a two year old.  
  
He turned to Ricky and shook his hand a second time, "I'm sure we'll be seeing each other. It was nice to meet you."  
  
Ricky nodded, "Same here."  
  
With one last wave, Pacey began the long walk to the front of the airport, where he hoped the cab he had called ahead for was waiting. But he hadn't walked far when Joey's distressed cry rang through the air, "Pacey, wait!" she called, "I need to know if you forgive me."  
  
**********************  
  
As Dawson all but fell into the familiar white wicker couch, Jolie ran around to the side of the house, giggling and pointing to the spot where the ladder had been, taken down many years before due to rust and aging.  
  
"This is it, right? Wow, I can't believe I'm actually standing here. Can you get me a ladder, too, Dad? Maybe it'll catch me a boyfriend."   
  
"Not if I can help it," Dawson muttered automatically, still staring at the porch and the shutters and everything else that had been imprinted in his brain. He was half shocked at how much seeing the house was affecting him. He had expected maybe an involuntary smile or a shortness of breath. But this feeling of not being able to breath at all was scaring him.   
  
The minute he had walked up the path to his house, gazing over at Jen's old residence, he had been bombarded with memories, so many he had had to stumble over to the wicker furniture and sit down for fear of fainting. He remembered, a smile brightening his features, the day of Alex's birth, when Joey had ventured out to these same chairs, wiping tears as if Dawson did not already know she had been crying. Those had been the innocent times, before either of them knew much about manipulation and heartbreak. Joey had talked the talk back then, but had yet to experience the feelings behind her biting remarks. Had yet to 'find' herself. The thought of that conversation still made Dawson cringe and he began to chew on the ragged nail of his thumb, a nervous habit he had picked up during Nicole's pregnancy.   
  
Jolie's voice, sounding distant and alien to Dawson's ears, called out to him, "Are you okay, Dad?" Only then did he notice her sweet face, wide-eyed and worried, hovering in front of his, "You look kinda gray."  
  
It took him a minute, but Dawson was able to shake himself from the dark trenches of his past and stand, taking his daughter's hand and smiling down at her, "Nothing's wrong, Jolie Bean. I'm just glad to be back."  
  
Jolie shook her little head, the blond ponytail bouncing, "Fine, then why are you calling me Jolie Bean? You never do anymore unless you're 'really' upset," she retracted her hand and flounced ahead of her father, leaving Dawson to stare at her retreating figure with amusement. And also to wonder how she knew him so well.   
  
Jolie stopped and turned on her heel, looking at her father with steely eyes, "Besides," she continued as if she had never stopped talking, "did you really expect to fool me with a lame line like that?"  
  
Dawson laughed.  
  
***********************  
  
"There he is," Jen, arms rested over her bulging stomach, said. Her tone was grim, but Jack could sense the fear that lay just below. And she had a right to be scared.  
  
Jack wrinkled his forehead, making the lines that had already marred it more pronounced, it wasn't as if he would do anything. He was past that. But Dawson was a different story.  
  
The moment when Dawson had walked in on himself and Joey, entangled in a drunken embrace, or drunken mistake as Jack crudely called it, was one that had been emblazoned on his mind ever since. It hadn't been passionate rage, or heart-wrenching hurt on Dawson's face. Instead, it was a look of cool indifference, as if he knew neither Jack nor Joey. He had treated it as though he had mistakenly walked in on an unfamiliar couple, the sort of thing that happened any number of times at a party such as that had been. He had said, his voice even, void of the slightest tremble, "Oh, excuse me," and walked from the room, closing the door softly behind him.  
  
And past that day on until the present date, Dawson had continued to treat the two as if they had never met. He cut them completely out of his life. Joey, the love of his life, never again climbed the rickety ladder and through the billowing curtains. Dawson put an end to his and Jack's meetings, did not turn to him for advice any longer. And he couldn't have done anything that would've hurt them more.  
  
Currently, Jack and Jen were standing, much the same way as Dawson, in front of their old childhood home where they had found friendship, but more than that, they had found the love that had carried them through anything life had thrown at them. And considering Andie, life had thrown far more than any normal person could catch.  
  
Jen shivered, not from the cold Massachusetts night air, but from being transported back to the awful times before she and Jack fled to Maine. They had stayed as long as they could bear the pain that weighed so heavily on their chests.  
  
Jack's strong, steady hand on her arm comforted her slightly. At least enough to turn grateful eyes on her husband and lay her head on his shoulder, "I can't believe we're back."  
  
Jack ran a preoccupied hand through Jen's long golden locks, he himself also remembering their last days in Capeside, "Should we go in or bear the inevitable meeting with Dawson?" His voice was faraway, as if he cared neither way.  
  
Jen looked over at Dawson, holding the hand of a tiny girl, looking no older than five or six, and realized in wonderment that she must be his daughter. Jen wondered if the girl possessed his oblivious charm or his driving determination that had attracted Jen for those long years. She saw, even at their distance, the striking physical resemblance between them. Jen smiled, knowing in her heart that his daughter had to be a female version of himself.  
  
And the longing to justify the wish overcame the fear of facing him, "Sooner is better than later, right?"  
  
Jack looked to Jen, his feeling of opposition parading openly across his face, "If you're sure," he said warily.  
  
*************************  
  
Dawson stiffened as soon as he had heard her call his name. He had never forgotten the sound of anyone's voice, but hearing Jen's made his blood run cold, because he knew Jack would be standing by her side.  
  
Dawson didn't know why he held on to the stubborn grudge. If anything, he was heavily indebted to Jack. If he hadn't done with Joey what he did, Jolie wouldn't exist. Dawson felt insufferable grief at just thinking of her not being always there, knowing exactly how he was feeling and what he needed. Jolie had become his best friend.  
  
But he guessed it was the sting of losing her, she who he believed for so long to be the love of his life. For as far as Dawson knew, Joey was her same witty intolerable self. The same girl who hid her insecurity and shortcomings just under the surface, unconsciously letting them crack through at unguarded places.  
  
Jen had reached his side and he turned, an unexpected smile crossing his lips, "Jen," the single word was packed full of emotion Dawson hadn't known he felt. Before he could have second thoughts, he wrapped his arms around her, rocking her back and forth, "I've missed you," he stated simply.  
  
She looked the same, except for letting her hair grow long again and... All of a sudden Dawson jerked back, actually looking at Jen for the first time, "You're pregnant."  
  
The laugh that had once been so familiar to him erupted from her, "Still oblivious as ever, aren't you?"  
  
He smiled sheepishly and was about to reply, except for Jolie tugging on the end of his shirt. He had forgotten Jolie.  
  
He beamed proudly down at her, then back at Jen, "Well, congratulations, Jen," he tugged Jolie to his side and rumpled her hair affectionately, "Let me introduce you to my pride and joy. This is my daughter," Jen laughed at how Dawson's voice swelled at the last word, "Jolie."  
  
Jen bent over and smiled into the girl's dancing blue eyes. She certainly was a carbon copy of her father, "Hello, Jolie."  
  
Jolie smiled impishly and tugged the hair band from her hair, the silky waves falling around her small face, "Sorry 'bout my hair. Dad always does that when he's showing me off to people."  
  
Jen's smile widened, charmed by the little girl as most people who crossed her path were. It was then that Jack appeared at her side.   
  
Jen's smile dropped into a worried frown and she looked to Dawson, noticing how his carefree manner had disappeared and he seemed to withdraw inside himself. Jolie noticed as well, because Jen witnessed how she slipped her hand in his, saw the confused expression on her face.  
  
Jack grabbed Jen's hand and she felt his nervous squeeze, "Hello, Dawson," he said evenly.  
  
"Jack," Dawson's voice was icy and he let go of his daughter's hand, crossing his arms over his chest.  
  
Jack attempted a feeble smile, "Still pretending I don't exist?"  
  
Dawson raised his eyebrows and shrugged coldly, "Old grudges die hard, I guess."  
  
Jack nodded awkwardly, "Yeah."  
  
After a tortured silence, Dawson burst out with, "I mean, weren't you supposed to be gay?"  
  
Jack laughed in spite of the situation and felt his cheeks burn crimson, "I like to blame that on teenage indecision. I was, uh, confused back then."  
  
Dawson nodded, "Obviously."  
  
There was another pause, this one thoughtful. Jolie broke it when she began to giggle.   
  
At first she attempted to keep them quiet, but soon it became beyond her control and she bent over in a fit of laughter.  
  
"Jolie!" Dawson snapped, embarrassed. He looked up at Jack and Jen, trying to decide how to excuse her, but found them fighting a losing battle with laughter as well.   
  
After another minute, the four of them were holding each other up, grabbing futilely at the pain in their sides, all the while laughing their relieved and giddy laughter.   
  
********************  
  
"Look, Pacey," Andie's bright eyes were sparkling even brighter tonight, her smile was wider than he had ever seen it. She had something in her arms. Something Pacey could tell they were both extremely happy over. He was standing so far away, though. From the distance, the thing in Andie's arms appeared to be a blanket, but he wanted to be closer to be sure.  
  
Pacey ran eagerly over to her, peering anxiously at the blanket. But as soon as he was near enough to get a good look at it, Andie's face fell and the blanket vanished from her arms.   
  
The sky darkened and she looked up at Pacey, her eyes filling with tears, "It's too late, Pacey." She began to fade into nothingness, "It's too late..."  
  
Pacey reached out for her, but she too had vanished, "Stop!" He yelled into the blackness, "Come back!"  
  
But she was gone.  
  
Pacey shot up in bed, drenched with sweat and shivering like a sewer rat. He rubbed his eyes and stood up. As he began to adjust to the dark, he stopped in his tracks and looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings.   
  
Where was he? Gone was his king-sized silk-sheeted bed and his marble desk. The huge bay window was nowhere to be found and he could not hear the normal creakings of his house. Fear made goose-bumps stand out on his arms.   
  
It was only when he saw the sign of the hotel he was staying at that he relaxed. He was in Capeside, a place where he should feel completely comfortable. Strangely enough, he felt anything but.  
  
His dream had been different that night. What was Andie showing him? He sat on the bed and clenched his fists to keep them from trembling. For the first time since Andie's demise, Pacey was positive there was more to the story than even he knew.  
  
He walked to his suitcase, laying open on the dresser, and pulled out a sweatshirt and jeans. He needed some air.  
  
  
Puleaze send feedback! I'd love it! MyStory12@aol.com  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	4. More to Come

Author's Note: Just to let the readers know, everything in this story is written for a reason. Personalities are changed on purpose as well as everything else. Also, if you want to know who's going to end up together...you just have to read the story. That stinks, huh? hehe Anyway, enjoy! And REVIEW!!BR  
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HTMLFONT SIZE=3 PTSIZE=9BMore to ComeBR  
By JaycieBR  
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/BShe sat, her long lanky legs crossed, the diamond jewelry glittering against her tawny skin. She sighed. They would cross paths, she knew. It would be inevitable, and the knowledge of this made her shiver with anticipation. It had been so long.. too long. She pushed a few strands of her long jet-black hair from her eyes, tucking them behind her ears. She wondered what he'd do when he saw her. But no, she didn't have to wonder. She could picture his face perfectly. The shocked, confused, and maybe a little hurt, expression, his deer fawn eyes looking questioningly into hers... She had been such a fool.BR  
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But she was scared to see him, so scared that nightmares awoke her nearly every night, dreams of all the worst scenarios her brain could imagine. Of him rejecting her, or worse, laughing at her. She had been a fool to leave, and was now even a bigger one to think she could just return no questions asked. But she knew there would be questions, she was prepared to answer them. Any he asked, she'd have a reply. Even for the really tough ones.BR  
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At least this is what she told herself. Had chanted over and over to herself as she had boarded the plane, as she had stuffed her carryon bags into the overhead compartment. As she had walked into the place she knew he'd never avoid. As she sat here, trying in vain to keep her delicate fingers from trembling.BR  
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He wouldn't reject her. He couldn't.BR  
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Pacey stood in front of his childhood home, a cold bottle of vodka in his grip. He could feel all the rage, the hate, boil up inside of him. Thirty-three years of un-confronted pain staring him straight in the face. He hated this house, despised the white shutters, couldn't bear the sight of the quaint flower garden. "Could've been Beaver friggin' Cleaver's house," he muttered under his alcohol-laden breath.BR  
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He hadn't been back here since high school. He'd put himself through college, through graduate school. Only one thing had kept him going, only one thought: 'You have to show him you're not nothing,' he had told himself. It had been enough motivation for six years of nothing but work and school. He had woken up every day at five, worked from five thirty to eleven, going straight from work to school. Sat through class after class until six at night, only to return to his job at the butcher's, working until past midnight only to go home and fall into bed. BR  
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Pacey had turned himself into a zombie, an unfeeling, uncaring monster. He had had no girlfriends, no friends even. Of course part of that had been because of Andie. "But there's no thinking of Andie tonight," he said.BR  
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No, Andie wasn't going to be on his mind. He wanted to focus his rage on the person he hated most. His father.BR  
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He swallowed three gulps of soothing vodka. It made him see straighter, helped him forget his conscience. Helped him see all the perfectly logical reasons why he should take revenge on his father.BR  
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The door looked so homey, so inviting. Funny, then, that Pacey hadn't once felt welcomed in his home. Had always been treated as an outsider. As unwanted. His father had treated him as a lower being, not human at all. No matter how hard Pacey had tried to impress, to make his father see he was worthy of his love, Mr. Witter had repeatedly shut him down. He had thought his three page spread in People magazine would make his father at least contact him, if only for some free publicity. But no word ever came. So Pacey's twenty-five hour work day had been for naught. His father noticed nothing. BR  
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Tears welled and spilled down his cheeks, stained the front of his sweatshirt. A scream of utter pain and rage erupted from his lips and he let his sobs come freely. He had to do something. He felt the cold glass of the vodka bottle between his sweaty fingers. Pacey chugged a portion of it before raising it over his head, the remains of the liquid pouring to the ground, like Pacey's tears streaming down his cheeks. With another howl of anger he hurled the bottle at the house, through one of the curtained windows. The shatter of glass on glass rang through the tranquil night and the sound comforted Pacey. He wiped at his wet cheeks, took a few deep breaths, suddenly wishing he had finished the bottle before throwing it. BR  
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He stared in glee at the window. Nothing was left, only pointy edges stuck from the corners of the window, gleaming like knives in the moonlight. The rest was scattered across the ground and in the house. He had ruined the house his father took such pride in taking care of. "I put the money I was willing to spend on you on the house, Pacey," his father had sneered one night, "Since you'll never amount to anything."BR  
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"Shows how wrong you were, father dearest," Pacey slurred. BR  
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***********************BR  
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"Wow, is it normal to feel this embarrassed?" Josephine bit nervously at her nail as she climbed under the hotel's stiff comforter. BR  
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Ricky turned from the sink, his mouth full of toothpaste, "I couldn't tell you, Josie," he paused to rinse his mouth out. "Maybe if you'd let me in on the whole story I'd be able to give better advice." He raised a playful eyebrow at her.BR  
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"Nice try, Rick, but not good enough. Trust me, you don't want to know the whole story, I don't even know if you'd want to be friends with me anymore." Josephine pulled the comforter up to her chin, thinking about how they didn't offer much comfort, despite their name.BR  
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Ricky sat beside her, wrapping a thick arm around her shoulders, "Hey. I don't want to hear that from you, Josie," his tone was sober, "Nothing, and I mean nothing, could keep me from your side." He grabbed her chin as she lowered her head in embarrasment. "No joking."BR  
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She looked into his kind brown eyes, "How many times have I thanked you lately?"BR  
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Ricky laughed, "Not nearly enough times, that much I know. I go through so much for you, girl." he kissed her forehead softly, "Now go to sleep. Tommorrow will bring even harder trials."BR  
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Josephine hugged him and lay back, feeling safe and secure, "Yeah, like Dawson."BR  
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Ricky shivered dramatically, "Stop!" he wailed, "I can't deal with that name. Not tonight."BR  
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She laughed as Ricky switched off the light, casting the room into darkness. Josephine snuggled down into the covers and tried hard to make Pacey's annoyed face vanish from her mind. He had turned back after she had foolishly called after him again, his face openly displaying his thoughts of her. She had chickened out, saying never mind and promising to call soon. But she'd never call and this she'd known from the minute he'd handed her his card. The truth behind Andie's death was to forever be her secret. It was her punishment, dealt out by herself. She'd have to live with her grief and unbearable guilt on her own until judgement day. It was what she deserved.BR  
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Dawson looked down at Jolie, curled up in his lap and sleeping peacefully, and wondered for the billionth time how something this perfect could have been made by him. It baffled his mind and would for the rest of his life. He looked away from her with some effort and turned his gaze back on his father. His parents had gotten officially divorced and Gail had moved to Florida some years back. Dawson had little contact with her.BR  
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"I know what you think when you look at her, Dawson," Mitch said with a smile, "You look at her flawless little face and ask how she could've come from you. I used to think the same things about you. I still do."BR  
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Dawson looked at his father, for the first time in his life seeing him on another level. On the same level as himself. Mitch had seen Dawson grow and change. He had let him change. Had smiled as Dawson discovered everything life had to offer, but had also stood back and let him experience everything in his own way and time. Would Dawson be as good a father to Jolie as Mitch was to him?BR  
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Mitch leaned back against the couch cushions, "I only wish our family hadn't been so dysfunctional. With your mother and I coming and going so often... it must've been so difficult for you, Dawson."BR  
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He nodded, thinking about how hard it really had been for him. He had always been torn between the two, never fully sure which side to take, knowing inside that he shouldn't really have to take a side at all. Dawson looked down at his daughter once more, and a wave of guilt washed over him. Jolie would have the same life. She had hardly known Nicole, hadn't yet had time to know her. She would grow up motherless. Suddenly Dawson knew he hated Nicole. Hated her for leaving Jolie, for her selfishness. And also he hated her for leaving him, because he loved Nicole with all his heart. All she would need to do was come back and he'd welcome her. His heart was empty without her.BR  
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Mitch seemed to read his mind again, "Have you talked to Nicole since she left?"BR  
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Dawson shook his head, his throat constricting painfully. He lifted Jolie gently from his lap, placing her down on the couch. "I have to go, Dad. Just to take a walk or something."BR  
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Mitch nodded, "I'll put Jolie to bed."  
  
And Dawson left.BR  
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Andie smiled up at Jack, her eyes reflecting the tiny white lights on the tree. Jack grinned as he tweaked her nose affectionately. Andie had never lost the Christmas spirit. Last night, she had forced Jack to help her hang their stockings, which were threadbare and ragged from many years of being stuffed to the brim with candy canes and chocolate Santas. And as Jack watched, amused, from the kitchen table, Andie had zipped around the room, pouring a tall glass of milk and collecting red and green frosted sugar cookies onto a special Christmas plate. "For Santa," she whispered, as if Santa could hear. She placed an apple and a stalk of celery next to the plate. "For the reindeer," she had told Jack, a childish gleam in her eye.  
  
She was down on her hands and knees now, her bare toes digging into the carpet as she searched through the piles of shining presents. She popped up to her knees, a wrapped box in her hands. She held it out to Jack eagerly, anticipation making her grin and bite her lip. "This is yours, Jack. From me."  
  
Jack took the gift from Andie, some of her glee rubbing off onto him. "For me? You shouldn't have." He sat on the couch and started tearing the green and red paper from the box. He was surprised to find his fingers were shaking. With a deep breath, he lifted off the box top and pushed away a layer of gold tissue paper. It was a framed picture of the two of them, a shot taken during the last week of high school. The frame was engraved, at the top, "An Unbreakable Bond..." and at the bottom, "I love you, brother. -Andie"  
  
Jack wiped away the tear that had escaped his eye, looking to Andie, "This is amazing."  
  
Andie's shining eyes dimmed, her smile fell into a frown. "Do you really like it, Jack?"   
  
Jack nodded, "Of course."  
  
Andie dropped her head, speaking without looking at him, "Good. Keep it always." She stood, slowly walking away from Jack, "It'll be our last picture together."  
  
Jack jumped up, the picture and the box crashing to the ground, "Andie! What do you mean?"  
  
But she was gone.  
  
Jack awoke weeping. He rolled onto his back, letting the sobs wrack his body until he coughed. He could feel a headache beginning at his temple, but still his tears consumed him. Andie had so much to live for, not only her Harvard education, but also her personality, her love of life. She was robbed of any chance she should've had in one careless instant. Sometimes he wished he could shake her, yell at her. He wanted her to know he thought she was a fool. For letting a stupid man take her world away.   
  
Jack stood up off the bed, wiping his tears roughly from his face with the back of his hand. He walked over to his suitcase, tucked away in the closet. He opened it and dug under all of the clothes, closing his hand over a cold metal object. Jack pulled out the picture and dropped it onto his lap, running his fingers over the words, "An Unbreakable Bond..." Jack's tears dropped one by one, splashing onto his and Andie's faces.  
  
  
Pacey, feeling rejuvenated after trashing his father's house, had stumbled through the placid streets of Capeside, searching for somewhere to go. He couldn't go back to the hotel and back to sleep...not with Andie so fresh on his mind.   
  
O'Connor's Pub, a bar dating back to the turn of the nineteenth century, called out to Pacey. As he pulled open the heavy oak doors, he remembered how he and Dawson used to set up a makeshift O'Connor's Pub in Dawson's backyard. They'd climb into their tree house and sit at their make believe counter, both ordering martinis. They used to think it was a marteeny, and that the drink was small. Pacey shook his head; silently wishing Dawson would be in the bar.  
  
Pacey sighed as he took a seat at the bar. It was unusually crowded tonight and he had taken the last available seat. On his right sat a woman who took Pacey's breath away. She wore a form-fitting little black dress, her diamond necklace and earrings glinting in the dim bar light. Pin straight jet-black locks fell to the bottom of her shoulder blades; they too shining as she casually flipped her hair over her shoulder. As she glanced at Pacey briefly, he caught sight of warm chocolate brown eyes, framed by lashes thick as fur. Pacey chuckled and scratched his head, both his father and Andie momentarily forgotten.  
  
To his left, a man about Pacey's age let his head drop to his shoulders; pushing an empty beer bottle next to another seven empty ones. His business suit looked as if it had been in a worse fight than its owner. With one last glance at the looker to his right, Pacey decided he'd do better on the left side tonight.  
  
He clapped a hand over the back of the man and he snapped his head up, looking at Pacey bleary-eyed. "Who the fuck're you?"  
  
Pacey laughed, "Your best friend, man. You look like you could use an ear." He paused, "And maybe a bathroom later."  
  
The man hardly paused, "It's tough, going back to your hometown. I mean, I'm this big shot lawyer now, you know? But I come back to this hellhole and I still feel like I'm the shit on the big jock's shoe. You get what I'm saying?"  
  
Pacey nodded, thinking this conversation might be more therapeutic than he first believed, "I definitely do."  
  
"I wasn't going to come back," the man motioned for the bartender and ordered another beer. The bartender raised an eyebrow but said nothing. "Yeah, I was going to just stay home in my mansion and never face the demons. But then I said, fuck it, you know? What the hell have they got over me now?"  
  
"Absolutely nothing," Pacey commiserated  
  
"You're wrong! They still run your life..." the man leaned shakily toward Pacey, talking in a stage whisper, "You can run, but you can't hide, my man. You can't hide. I'm seeing all these people I left so far behind now and it's like I never left. How fucking stupid am I? Saying I'd come to some stupid high school reunion."  
  
"Did you go to Capeside High?" Pacey interrupted.  
  
The man grimaced, "Yeah, most torturous four years of my damn life."  
  
Pacey smiled, "Me too."  
  
The man stuck out a wobbly hand and grinned foolishly, "Peter Welsh, class of two thousand and one."  
  
The name didn't ring any bells for Pacey, but he introduced himself anyway, "Pacey Witter."   
  
Pacey saw a glimmer of recognition in Peter's eyes, "You're the guy who spit in that English teacher's face! Fucking brilliant. I was in your class."  
  
Pacey was too drunk to be embarrassed for not remembering Peter, "That was great, wasn't it? Best thing I ever did in high school, I can say that much. I can't believe you remember that." Both Peter and Pacey found this hysterical and they laughed until tears came to their cheeks.  
  
Pacey began to think it wasn't such a terrible idea to be back at Capeside. It had been unfortunate seeing Joey first. If it had been Dawson at the airport, Pacey would've had a much brighter outlook on the whole trip. He sat forward as the bar door opened, maybe it would be one of his old school friends.   
  
Pacey's jaw dropped as he realized just how right he'd been. Dawson Leery stood frozen to his spot, his hand immobile on the door. Pacey hadn't expected Dawson to be so shocked the first time he saw him. After all, Pacey hadn't changed that much, especially now in his old sweatshirt and beat-up jeans. He was about to call out to him, but Dawson spoke first.  
  
"Nicole?"  
  



	5. Hello, Gorgeous

Author's Note: Sorry about all the html stuff on part 4, I didn't copy it right=) Anyway, thanks for the nice reviews and I hope you enjoy part 5.  
  
Hello, Gorgeous  
By: Jaycie  
  
  
Nicole had always been an eavesdropper. As a child, she knew what would be waiting for her under the Christmas tree by early November. In school, people came to her for the hottest gossip; she had known the class president was being dumped two days before he did.  
  
And, most importantly, it had been an overheard conversation that had made her notice Dawson Leery. It was right in the middle of sophomore year, and Dawson stood smack dab in the middle of the manicured quad. His face was alight with rage, eyes flashing red and fists clenched. A girl stood before him, face calm. She looked as if she wasn't at all surprised by his outburst. The situation had intrigued Nicole, and she walked closer to the couple, taking a seat on a bench nearby. She had picked up her five-pound biology book and flipped through it, attempting to be inconspicuous. She knew now that she needn't have tried so hard. Dawson had been lost in his own world, the same one he now shared with Jolie...instead of her.  
  
Nicole remembered the words Dawson said that day. "I thought I could trust you. You know I loved you unconditionally," at this the girl put her head down, but Dawson lifted her chin gently, his voice softening, "Just tell me why. Didn't I give you everything you wanted? What else can I do? Just tell me and I'll do it. If only you'd come back, if only you still loved me the way I love you. I can't even sleep anymore-" Dawson's voice lowered so that Nicole could no longer hear his words, but she had heard enough. She picked up her bag, quickly finding her sunglasses and slipping them on. Nicole never could cry in public. She continued watching the two of them until the girl turned and ran from Dawson. Nicole saw his shoulders slump, saw him reach down and pick up his books dejectedly. As he walked from the quad he looked over to Nicole and she pulled her sunglasses off, letting him see her tears. And he smiled.  
  
And now, for the second time in her life, she didn't bother to hide the tears that filled her eyes and slowly tumbled down her cheeks. For twelve years, Dawson had been her life. Every day she had woken up next to him, fought over what to have for dinner with him, snuggled up on the couch they had bought together with him. After a year of idyllic marriage, they brought an angel into the world and named her Jolie. In French jolie meant pretty-and she was.   
  
Now, after a year of never seeing him, simply hearing him say her name was enough to make her crumble. She stood up shakily from the bar stool, aware of the many pairs of eyes that followed her. For once, she didn't care what they thought of her. She cared only what Dawson thought and he wasn't making it easy for her. He stood, an unreadable look in his eyes, his jaw set in the way it always did when he was faced with a difficult decision. Nicole couldn't believe how much more attractive he had gotten. Was it really possible to change so drastically in only a year? Nicole knew it was, Dawson was living, breathing proof.  
  
As she reached him, she wiped away her tears with fisted hands, determined to be as strong as Dawson was being. She rolled back her shoulders and lifted her chin with the resolute determination she'd always had. And then she spoke.  
  
****  
  
It was two in the morning and Josephine couldn't sleep. She'd had a dream about Andie, the one she always had. She got up and yawned, thinking how she'd been having the dream at least once a week for about thirteen years now. It hardly bothered her anymore, except for the sleep she never got. She looked to the slumbering form in the bed next to hers and smiled. Ricky always had slept like a log.   
  
Josephine found herself thinking for the hundredth time what a perfect boyfriend Ricky would make. He cared for Josephine in a way no man ever had, he'd seen her through her worst times and didn't run now when she decided to revert back to drunken Josephine every once in a while. He was her savior.   
  
He was also gay. Josephine sighed and ran a hand through her long tresses as she headed for the bathroom. She had told him about Jack, and the fact that she seemed to attract gay men was a running joke between the two of them. Ricky was the only one Josephine let herself get attached to. He held every piece of the puzzle of her past except the one that completed it. The one that made every other piece fall into place. Without it, all Ricky had was a pile of cardboard cutouts that made no sense. Everyday, in every conversation they had, Josephine thought of telling Ricky, of giving him that last piece. But just before the words escaped her lips, she stopped herself. Even Ricky wouldn't understand what she did. If she couldn't forgive herself for that night...how could he?  
  
She looked at herself in the dingy bathroom mirror and her reflection depressed her. Memories of high school made her yearn for the old Joey Potter, the girl with unbeatable determination, fierce wit, and enough charm to cajole a sweater off a homeless man's back. She didn't need to ask where that girl had gone. She had been buried with Andie. But tonight, as Josephine stared at her weary reflection, she felt her chin rise and her eyes start to flash. Andie had never left her side since the night of her death. After thirteen years of torment, Josephine was sick of the burden. She had come back to Capeside to face her demons and leave them here. And she'd be damned if she faced them looking like a scared little schoolgirl. She was a strong, independent woman. And her name was Joey.  
  
**  
Dawson felt such a mix of emotions  
  
Anger. She stood before Dawson, shaking like a fawn when he knew she was more like a panther. She seemed to believe that crying would immediately melt his heart and he'd need her to mold it back together. Dawson's jaw clenched. That might work with Jolie, but Nicole...nothing short of a divine intervention would make him civil enough to even smile at her. He thought of his daughter, curled peacefully under the blankets in his childhood bedroom. She didn't deserve to have Nicole crash in and out of her life whenever she felt she was out of the spotlight. If Dawson had anything to say about it, Nicole could hand over her diamond wedding ring.  
  
But, on the other hand... Attraction. On an animal level...Dawson's fingers ached to touch her. His eyes drank in the curves of her body, the shine of her hair, the roundness of her eyes. Her smell alone, a mixture of amber and sunflowers, triggered hundreds of memories of torrid nights spent together. Of the night they made Jolie. A shudder ran through Dawson's body and he had to fight to keep his fisted hands in his pockets.   
  
His mind, his heart split in half. One side remembering her striking features distorted into an ugly, jealous scowl on the day she drove off and left him a single father. The other remembering how she'd smiled as she'd said 'I do.' How she looked now, vulnerable and fragile. It looked like she needed him, the way Dawson had always wanted her to.  
  
His breath caught as she spoke, "Surprise." She laughed, a nervous quivering laugh.  
  
Dawson didn't laugh. He didn't smile. He couldn't decide how to act, not yet. Finally, he dragged his eyes away from her piercing gaze and rested his chin on his chest. With a sigh and a shrug he answered her, his voice tortured, "I can't do this. Not now."  
  
He turned on his heel and pushed through the door, feeling a rush of relief when fresh air invaded his lungs. He pressed his palms against his eyes, thinking that it wasn't right to feel like a caged animal around his wife, estranged or not. He had made it out alive, but not before he had seen Nicole's eyes, how the hope and light had both been extinguished.  
  
**  
  
Pacey had watched the interaction between Dawson and the woman, how so many words had been understood between them when only three sentences had been spoken. For the second time tonight Pacey was left breathless. Somehow seeing Dawson have such a strong connection with someone other than a Capesider hurt him. Dawson had always seemed the hub of their circle of friends. He was Pacey's best friend, Joey's best friend, Jen's next-door neighbor... Even through the rough times, without Dawson, Pacey had always believed their bond would have just broken and faded away.  
  
The fact that Dawson had...grown past him and Joey and Jen and Jack, it just wasn't right. Maybe he had even forgotten Andie. Pacey squeezed his eyes shut and pursed his lips. No, Dawson hadn't forgotten about Andie. Of that Pacey was sure. He realized that somewhere in his mind he had expected to find Capeside just how he had left it. With Dawson still agonizing over trivial things, Joey still agonizing over Dawson. He had expected them all to be more successful than him. Just as it had always been. But from what he could see, he had surpassed them all. Instead of feeling satisfaction, however, Pacey felt unexplainably depressed.   
  
He rose from the stool, having sobered up upon seeing Dawson. He walked past Nicole, who had not moved since Dawson had left her by the door, with hardly a glance in her direction. As far as he was concerned, she didn't even know Dawson. As he had expected, Dawson sat on a bench only a few feet in front of O'Connor's Pub, his head in his hands. Pacey noted how he was dressed. Pressed khakis and a brown cable-knit sweater. Preppy as always, Pacey guessed some things never changed.  
  
He walked up behind Dawson and spoke in a soft, nostalgic voice, "Do you remember," Pacey noticed him jump slightly, "when we used to pretend your tree house was O'Connor's Pub?"  
  
Dawson didn't turn, but he answered, laughter in his voice, "We used to fight over who got to be the bartender." He looked up at Pacey.  
  
Pacey knew then that he had been wrong. Dawson's eyes still shone with the unshakable optimism he'd had back when Pacey knew him. And still, behind the optimism, lay the ever-present anxiety that had always haunted him. Pacey grinned, clapping a hand onto Dawson's back, "Dawson Leery. We meet again."  
  
Dawson stood from the bench, a smile slowly forming to match Pacey's, "You really don't know how much I've missed you, Pace," he furrowed his forehead in a way that was familiar to Pacey. Dawson was already over-analyzing, "In fact, I don't think I appreciated how much I've missed you."  
  
Pacey shook his head, eyes flashing, "You're still the same old Dawson, you know? Separated for twelve years and I feel like I never left."  
  
Dawson raised an eyebrow, "Actually, I think I left first. I seem to remember a surprise going away party you threw me. Well, you and Andie..." Dawson's voice dropped to a whisper, "both threw it."  
  
Pacey knew Dawson hadn't meant to bring her up, but a knife still thrust itself through his heart, "Yeah. You're right. Me and... We both threw it for you Dawson." Pacey didn't have any more words to say. It had been years, since her funeral, since Pacey had spoken about Andie to anyone. She had been tucked into the back of his mind, his own little secret. It made the guilt ease just slightly. Now he was in Capeside, where everyone knew... Pacey couldn't breathe.  
  
Dawson spoke, "I'm sorry, Pacey. I didn't mean to... bring all of that up. I know I'm not over it yet, not by far. So I know you aren't either," he placed a hand on Pacey's shoulder, a comforting hand.  
  
It worked. Pacey didn't want to ruin this night thinking of Andie. It had been twelve years since he'd seen his best friend and here he was, standing right in front of him. It would be foolish to waste this opportunity.  
  
He shrugged his shoulders and shook himself; pushing Andie from his mind, "Let's not talk about her tonight, Dawson." The devilish glint he had been infamous for in high school began to shine in his eyes, "Let's talk about that gorgeous woman you left crying in the bar."  
  
Dawson's shoulders slumped and he breathed out heavily, "Let's not, Pace. I'll tell you what. Let's talk about Jolie."  
  
Pacey's brow furrowed, "Who's Jolie? Don't tell me little Dawson Leery has two beautiful ladies crying over him? It's not possible." Pacey laughed a genuine laugh, one he hadn't heard come from his lips in years.  
  
Dawson smiled ironically, "Something like that. Come with me and you can meet her."  
  
Pacey happily obliged.   
  
**  
  
Joey slipped through the doors of the hotel. It was freezing outside, but instead of bracing herself for the cold, she lifted her chin and strode right into it. The fresh, frosty air on her cheeks and in her lungs reinforced her decision to get past it all. To become Joey Potter again.   
  
She had gotten into the shower after her epiphany, feeling so restless she feared she'd never be able to sleep again. She had to get out, to feel the freedom she had surrendered to Andie for so long. She had taken the time to blow-dry her hair. As she had figured, Ricky hadn't been awakened by the noise. She had painstakingly applied first eyeliner, then mascara, then lipstick. She was beginning to look like the firecracker she had been. She had slipped into a pair of tight jeans and a sweater, the most presentable clothes she had brought along with her. The next time she looked at herself in the mirror, it wasn't the same reflection she had seen an hour ago. She looked...hot. Like she remembered her reflection to be.  
  
Now, Joey floated through the streets of Capeside, finding she still knew them all like the back of her hand. She felt carefree and lighthearted and she wondered why she hadn't let go of Andie much earlier. After all, it wasn't completely her fault.   
  
Joey shook herself. Like everyone told her, it wasn't her fault at all. Andie knew she shouldn't have driven. It doesn't matter that Joey had practically forced her to get behind the wheel... But Joey was past thinking about, agonizing over, all of that now. She was stronger than anyone thought.  
  
Her breath caught as she saw who walked only a few short steps in front of her. Pacey and Dawson, two men she knew almost as well as herself. Why, then, was she frightened at the prospect of facing them? This wasn't the Joey Potter she remembered and it wasn't the Joey Potter that was walking here on this very street tonight. She ran a hand through her thick, shimmering hair and smiled. She walked a little faster, quickly reaching her two closest friends.  
  
  
Author's Note: Thank you for reading all the way down here, please review!  
  
  
  



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